


Food For Thought

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-22
Updated: 2012-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-03 10:43:39
Rating: Teen & Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8709304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Words: beer; cooking; excited. When they actually got around to eating something that was home-cooked, it was Jensen who did the cooking, so Jared offering to do it himself should make a nice change. Should, not would. Because, honest to God? Jared could not cook to save his fucking life.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

"Son of a _bitch_!"

 

Jared released his grip on the roasting tin and spun toward the sink, twisting the tap and thrusting his hand beneath the jet. He hissed as the ice-cold water stung his blistered skin. Trust him to pick up the thinnest tea towel they owned and not even think to bunch it up. His eyes watered as the pain ratcheted up another level, and he cursed himself again. 

 

Once he was relatively confident that his hand wasn't about to fall off, he chanced a look over his shoulder. Thankfully, only one of the roast potatoes had fallen out of the tin, but that wasn't the point. The point was that he was a fucking moron and he should not be doing this. Careful not to let his injured hand move too far away from the relief the cold water was finally offering, he bent down and snatched up the abandoned tea towel, which had somehow managed to avoid landing in the hot fat. He quickly soaked it in the water and wrapped it around his hand before turning to deal with the mess on his kitchen floor. The fat pooled around the potato that had fallen out of the tin was congealing fast on the cool tile, but Jared was more concerned about getting the rest of them back in the oven. Once he had succeeded, without injuring himself this time, he cleaned up the rest and then inspected his hand. It didn't seem too bad, but he got some ice out of the freezer, wrapped it in a different towel and pressed it against the burn anyway. Trying to ignore the throbbing in his palm was about as effective as trying to not think about elephants, so he meandered off to the bathroom in search of some painkillers, wondering all the while whose dumbass idea this had been in the first place.

 

But of course, he knew the answer to that one. It had been his idea; all his. _Fucking idiot_. He couldn't help but grimace at the photo of himself and Jensen, his boyfriend – lover, partner, _whatever_ – as he passed it in the hallway. Today was their five-year anniversary, and Jared had insisted that it was special; that they needed to do something other than go out to their favourite restaurant and blow all their cash on a fancy meal like they always did. 

 

"Why don't we stay in this year?" Jared had said, teeth tugging at Jensen's earlobe in a way that he knew drove him absolutely _crazy_. "Just the two of us – no work, no friends, no irritating family members, no distractions of any kind... I'll even cook you dinner." And honestly, it had been a brilliant idea. Between Jensen's deadline-centric job as a journalist and Jared's job as a teacher, they barely had any time to sit down together and just be _them_ , and a lot of what time they did have was taken up by friends and family that had an annoying tendency to overstay their welcome. The two hardly had enough time to wrap themselves around each other when they got into bed before they fell asleep. So, yeah, it had been a fantastic idea - until that last part had slipped, for God only knew what reason, out of Jared's mouth. 

 

In an ideal world, the offer to cook would have only added to the prospect of a perfect evening for the two of them. When they actually got around to eating something that was home-cooked, it was Jensen who did the cooking, so Jared offering to do it himself should make a nice change. _Should_ , not _would_. Because, honest to God? Jared could not cook to save his fucking life.

 

If he had surprised himself by making the offer, Jensen had thrown him for a loop by accepting it. He'd had half a mind to ask him what the fuck he was thinking, agreeing to let Jared cook him anything more than a grilled cheese, but Jensen had seemed so excited by the prospect that he hadn't had the heart. And boy, was Jensen excited. He hadn't stopped prattling about it the whole two weeks since Jared had suggested it, and this morning, before they had gone their separate ways, he had pulled Jared close, told him that he loved him, and promised to be home in time for dinner with the biggest fucking grin on his face that Jared had ever seen. If he wasn't already cracking under the pressure he had heaped onto his own shoulders, he sure had been after that. Jared had been like a cat on hot bricks all day, but even though he knew his students had suffered for it, he couldn't bring himself to feel bad. _They_ , unlike him, did not have to go home and cook up a fucking _storm_ in an attempt to convince their boyfriend that they weren't a complete waste of space.

 

And Jared really was trying, honestly. It just wasn't working. Everything had gone downhill after he'd gotten home from the store and discovered that he'd somehow managed to buy beef, rather than the lamb that was Jensen's favourite. Seeing as Jensen absolutely refused to eat beef unless it was in a burger, Jared had had to go back to the store, and if the fact that the only piece of lamb left by the time he got there was absolutely tiny hadn't told him that the rest of the evening would spell 'disaster', the fact that it also cost him twice as much as the beef should have. 

 

Sadly, Jared was only just beginning to see that he should have just waved the white flag there and then, and by now it was far too late to do anything about it. The meat was already in the oven, the veg was chopped and waiting for him to frighten it with the water that was just starting to boil on the stove – Jensen liked his vegetables crunchy, just on the right side of raw – and there was a rather expensive bottle of red sitting on the worktop. Still, despite all the things that had already gone wrong – besides the tiny, overpriced piece of meat and the burn on his hand, he had also managed to cut himself twice peeling the potatoes and once more when cutting the veg, and there had been an unfortunate moment when the lid had fallen off the salt he had been adding to the potatoes as they boiled and he'd had to start all over again – Jared was glad that he had picked a simple roast dinner. Sure, pasta would have been easier, but that was something that _Jensen_ always cooked for _him_ , and that seemed like something too special to mess with.

 

The sound of bubbling water called him back to the stove, and Jared was pleased to see that it was time to add his veg. He had chosen broccoli and carrots, and he had no idea if they went together or with lamb, but it was a risk he was prepared to take. With the vegetables added to the water, he had a bit of time to kill; his hand was driving him fucking nuts, so he headed back to the bathroom in search of some burn salve. It took him a little longer to find it than he had anticipated, and when he returned there was copious amounts of steam issuing from the pans on the hob. One look had him recoiling in horror - the veg had been boiled into green and orange sludge that was sitting at the bottom of the pans like it had every right to be there. It did not.

 

Resisting the urge to scream out his frustration, Jared made quick work of dumping the spoiled veg and throwing the pans into the sink, resolutely telling himself that he _hated_ veg anyway, and that this was his night as much as it was Jensen's. He would just tell Jen he didn't want veg tonight. Easy. This simple decision made, Jared suddenly felt a lot more in control. This was going to work out just fine, he knew it.

 

He checked his watch; Jensen would be home in about ten minutes. Perfect. He had set the table a while ago, so he moved over to the countertop and grabbed the bottle of wine, thinking he’d move it to the dining room. 

 

He hadn't heard the front door open, or Jensen's approaching footsteps, so when a pair of arms unexpectedly wrapped around him from behind, Jared froze, let out a shriek that was _absolutely_ manly, and dropped the bottle of wine. Both men watched in horrified fascination as it fell to the floor and shattered, sending dark red liquid and shards of glass _everywhere_.

 

" _Ohmygod_ ," Jared breathed, feeling his blood run cold.

 

"What the _fuck_?" Jensen snorted, clearly amused.

 

Jared whirled in Jensen's arms, his face flushed with embarrassment and surprise. "You-- You're not-- You shouldn't-- You're _early_ ," he finally spat out, his tone accusatory and flustered. "You frightened the _shit_ out of me!"

 

"Oh, _sorry_." Jensen backed away, carefully avoiding the broken glass, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. His eyes were sparkling with the amusement that he was fighting to keep off his face. Jared looked like he'd had a stressful day, and he didn't want to bait him. "I just thought I'd surprise you, is all. Took off a little earlier than usual. Didn't realise it'd cause so much... damage..." His eyes fell to the floor and he finally took in exactly _what_ damage had been caused. When he looked back up, he could no longer keep the smirk from his lips. "Wine, Jared? Since when do we drink _wine_?"

 

If it was even possible, Jared's blush deepened. "I don't-- It's special, it was supposed to be... special."

 

"Okay, okay." Jensen rested his hands on Jared's shoulders and made his smile a lot sweeter. "Don't worry about it, we'll clean it up." Just then, the timer on the oven went off, and both men jumped.

 

"It's the meat," Jared supplied unnecessarily, and then looked away, feeling sheepish.

 

" _I'll_ clean it up, then." Jensen beamed as he picked his way across the kitchen to grab the dustpan and brush they kept under the sink. "You see to the meat."

 

Jared nodded and did as he was told. As he opened the oven door, an overpowering smell of burning that he somehow hadn't noticed before assaulted his nostrils, and he staggered back.

 

"Dude, what the _fuck_?" Laughter coloured Jensen's voice as he stood up to empty the glass he had collected into the trash.

 

"I-- I don't know." Jared pulled the tray containing the meat out of the oven and set it on the top. It was even smaller than it had been when he'd put it in, and it was black. He felt rather than saw Jensen come up behind him to take a look, and then heard his long, low whistle.

 

"Oh, man. How long did you put it in for?"

 

"As long as it said in the book..." Jared had made no secret of the fact that he'd been intending to use Jensen's favourite recipe book to help him with this.

 

"Jared, the piece of meat the book calls for is a lot bigger than this. You're supposed to calculate based on weight... Oh, man!" Honestly, Jensen found the whole situation absolutely hilarious, and he couldn't hold in his laughter anymore. He tried though, and he choked on it as it burst out from between his lips.

 

Hurt pierced Jared's chest like a knife and he walked away, completely abandoning Jensen and the potatoes that were sizzling away in their roasting tin. Why had he been so fucking stupid as to think that he could do this? He was clearly incompetent; Jensen had clearly anticipated his incompetence. What the _fuck_ had he been thinking?

 

"Hey, wait." Jensen lunged out and caught Jared's arm before he could leave the kitchen, spinning him around. "It's only a piece of meat, Jared, what's wrong?"

 

Jared ducked his head, trying to hide eyes that he knew would be red with the threat of tears. "It's not just a piece of meat," he mumbled.

 

Jensen frowned. "What?"

 

"It's not just a piece of meat." His voice was clearer this time, but it wavered dangerously. " _Everything_ has gone wrong tonight; I boiled the veg to slush and I dropped the potatoes and I cut myself how many times and I burned my fucking hand--"

 

"You hurt yourself?" Jensen interrupted, stepping toward him, obviously concerned, but Jared talked right over him.

 

"--and it's our goddamn anniversary and it's supposed to be special, but I... I _suck_." His voice broke on this last word and he finally met Jensen's eyes, helpless to stop the tears that were spilling onto his cheeks but equally helpless to look away.

 

Any part of Jensen that had found this situation funny died immediately. "Oh, Jared," he murmured, wrapping his arms around the taller man and pulling him close. "You do not suck. If you hadn't been so flustered about getting all this exactly right, I think it would have been perfect. I love that you tried, but just because it didn't work out so well, it doesn't make this any less special. That you would do this for me, when I know how much you hate cooking..." He pulled back and made Jared look at him again. "It's special. But you know what I would really love?"

 

Jared blinked down at him, feeling a tiny spark of hope - hope that maybe, just maybe, he hadn't completely fucked this up. "What?" he whispered.

 

Jensen allowed the corner of his mouth to quirk up in a soft smirk. "Pizza." He glanced deliberately down at the red liquid that was slowly soaking into their shoes. "And a _beer_."

 

Jensen thought the grin that lit Jared's face in that moment was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

 

An hour later, the two men were curled up beneath a blanket on their sofa, enjoying a beer and the feel of being in each other's arms. There was an empty pizza box on the floor beside the coffee table, upon which stood the candles that Jared had intended to decorate the dining table with. They were burning low, and it was getting kind of difficult to see the rest of the room, but Jared could still make out Jensen's face and that was all that mattered.

 

Speaking of Jensen, he was currently extracting himself from Jared's arms, and that was not okay. Jared frowned and tried to pull him back, but Jensen just made a noise that sounded like it meant 'I'm not going anywhere, just let me move, dammit', and Jared quit resisting. Jensen took Jared's beer from him and set both bottles on the coffee table, careful to avoid the candles, and settled back into position. He slipped his hand into Jared's, the one that wasn't burnt, and twined their fingers together. Jared hummed contentedly and moved their joined hands so that they rested over Jensen's heart.

 

"Love you," he murmured, his voice thick with alcohol and pure, unadulterated _bone-tired_.

 

"Love you too." Jensen hesitated for a moment, wondering how far he should push this, before deciding that if he didn't push it all the way it would just nag at him for weeks. "Hey, Jared?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Why was the whole dinner thing so important to you? You really let it work you up."

 

Jared shrugged, a gesture that was awkward in his current position. He suddenly felt uncomfortable, but he couldn't lie to Jensen, even if it meant opening himself up to ridicule. "We both know I can't cook. The second I said it, I knew I was in way over my head and I just, I panicked."

 

Jensen frowned, squeezing Jared's hand. "Why didn't you just say something? I would've understood. Cooking's more my thing anyway, you know that."

 

"I know, but I didn't want you to have to cook tonight. And I didn't want to go out like we always do. And once I'd suggested it, man, you were so excited, I felt like backing out would be just as evil as kicking a puppy."

 

A light clicked on somewhere in Jensen's brain and he realised that _of course_ Jared would be stressing himself out so much with the cooking thing that he wouldn't have been able to see past it. He huffed out a small laugh, and turned to press a kiss to the corner of Jared's lips. "Jared, I wasn't excited because you were cooking."

 

Jared tensed when he heard the laugh, but moved his head so that Jensen's next kiss landed across his mouth. "Mm. You weren't?"

 

Jensen pulled back so that he could look at Jared, his expression light but serious. "Of course not. I was excited because we were getting to spend the whole evening together, just us, in our home. We were getting to screw work and family and friends for one night and fancy restaurant etiquette for a year and just be us. The cooking thing... Man, I could tell that it was important to you for whatever reason so I didn't want to say anything, but it really didn't matter to me. It actually kind of sounded like we were just gonna bring the stupid fancy restaurant etiquette into our own dining room." He grinned and pressed his cheek to Jared's. "If I'd known _why_ it was so important to you, I would not have let you do it."

 

Jared felt his lips twitch up into a small smile. "The cooking thing really wasn't what you were excited about?"

 

"No, Jared. I was excited because it's our anniversary, and for one night, I don't have to share you with _anyone_. It's just us - the way that it should be."

 

Relief and happiness and love rushed through Jared, and he turned to capture Jensen's lips in a searing kiss. He was absolutely right; this was exactly how it should be.

 

A little while later, when they were both naked and spent, Jensen turned to press his lips to his lover's chest with a soft smile. "Hey, Jared?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Next year, _I'll_ cook."


End file.
